


(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Caves, F/M, Flirting, Innuendo, Much complaining, Much heat, Nothing explicit, Summer, innuendos galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beating the heat in Dark Forest</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> or 
> 
> In Which It’s Too Hot For These Two To Do Anything But Tease Each Other. In All Senses Of the Term.
> 
> or 
> 
> Fairies: Hard to Kill and Harder to Please

A common misconception was that fairies loved Spring. Spring with all it’s color and fragrance, with its rebirth of the earth around them. With the amount of festivals held to herald in the season perhaps it wasn’t an unfounded belief. And in part, it was true. Fairies did love spring.

But not half so much as fairies loved summer. The clear skies and long days, the sun at its height bathing everything in warmth. There was a festiveness to summer, an expounding of their energy to what felt like endless days. If folk thought spring was one party after another for the fairy kingdom, then summer was one single party, unstopping. A constant celebration of life and color and daylight.

Yes, all fairies loved summer. For most it was their favorite time of the year. To this Princess Marianne was no exception.

There were, however, limits.

“It’s. Too.  _Hot_.” The fairy princess all but moaned out each word, as she lay sprawled across the throne of Bog King, her head resting on one arm of the bone structure, her knees bending over the other, with the rest of her settled in the king’s lap. She had thrown her arm over her forehead, obscuring her view, but she could hear his soft laugh and could easily imagine the smirk he sported as he looked down on her.

“So ye’ve felt compelled to tell me, no less than five times since ye got here.” Bog said, dryly amused by her plight.

She made a soft growling noise at his levity. “Because you haven’t  _done_  anything about it.”

“Yes, I’ll work on that.”

Before she could make a witty comment about his poor attempts at sarcasm, one of his large hands gently pushed some of her hair off of her forehead and she made a soft noise of a contentment at how cool and dry his skin felt on her flushed face. It was completely unfair that he wasn’t as hot as she, but right then she wasn’t going to complain.

“It’s your castle - you _should_ work on it.” Marianne stretched languidly. She shifted her hand so that her fingers twined with his, keeping the back of his hand against her forehead. “Seriously Bog, you don’t even have any direct sunlight! How is it this freaking hot in here? I can barely breathe!” 

It was nearly August, over a month since the solstice celebration - the largest that the Fairy Kingdom had, and one of the few Marianne actually dragged her paramour to - and moving into the hottest weeks of the entire season. Marianne adored the summer, and had doubly adored sharing and experiencing the season with Bog for the first time, but her enthusiasm with blistering heat had been exhausted.

She had thought, ignorantly she supposed, that the Dark Forest might be cooler than the fields in the height of summer, and had been incredibly disappointed to find that while yes there was not the heat of the sun beating down on her constantly, it was far from the relief she had hoped. It was as much the heat as the humidity of the forest. Everything felt heavy and the air felt hot and damp and Marianne idly wondered if anyone had drowned on dry land before. The inside of Bog’s castle was open cavernous but still didn’t seem to have any more air circulation than the fairy palace possessed.

There was a soft  _huff_  and Marianne could vividly see him rolling his eyes in her head. “And ye have the audacity to call  _me_  dramatic.” He accused. She lashed one of her sprawled legs in a half-hearted attempt at a kick. “Proper hypocrites, ye fairies are.”

Another kick. “Hey! You  _are_ dramatic - at least _I’m_  not singing my feelings, with pyrotechnics and the backing chorus of all my subjects.”

“… You’re never lettin that go, are you?” She could hear the blush in his voice. It pleased her enormously.

Marianne snorted. “Our first meeting? And you being the most  _blood-and-thunder_ theatrical dolt throughout it all? Of course I’m never letting it go.” Bog untangled their fingers and lifted his hand in order to cover his face with an embarrassed noise. “Not to mention that punch.”

He peered at her through his fingers. “Alright, I’ll grant you that - the punch was… memorable.”

“Fastest way to a goblin king’s heart: A well executed hook of the right.” Marianne teased. She lifted herself onto her elbows, bracing them against the throne arm so she was semi-sitting. “Anyways, I don’t recall ever saying I  _wasn’t_ dramatic. So you can shove that hypocrite nonsense and leave me to my suffering!”

“It’s yer own bloody fault for comin in the daytime for once.”

True. In part this was because Marianne had grown tired of waiting in insufferable heat for the sunset that meant a brief respite from the absurdly high temperatures. The other part was that she had come to learn that goblins, while  _not_  a nocturnal race, were more active in the evening hours than in broad daylight and thus visiting Bog in daytime hours gave her the likelihood of more  _privacy_  with him. With how frequent their supposed alone time was interrupted by the needs of his kingdom or simply the unfortunate forgetfulness of his subjects, Marianne was going to grab at any privacy she could.

Then again, they’d have more of such if they stopped deciding to spend their more intimate moments in his throne room, but neither liked that option enough to act on it.

All in all, Marianne chose to ignore his logic in favor of continuing to bemoan her fate. “It’s too hot to spar, or to fly, or to do… _anything_! Who allowed it to get this hot? Who do I complain to?”

“Me, apparently,” he deadpanned.

“And yet you’ve done nothing!” She tossed her head back with a loud groan of discomfort that was only partly exaggerated.

Bog laughed, one arm coming around her to steady her. “It’s a wonder your kind’s lived this long if this is how ye get whenever the weather’s not  _amicable_. Ye’ve done nothin to adapt… Its amazin you haven’t died out.”

“Oh, you know fairies,” Marianne said blithely, sitting up completely and settling herself so she straddled his lap. “We’re hard to kill-”

“And harder to please.” Bog finished the saying with her, an old one Goblins had apparently had for her race from the old days when the border between their lands had not been so rigid. The first time Marianne heard Bog use it, grumbled under his breath - and had him explain it - , she had been fascinated to know that, even now with them so isolated, it had stayed in some kind of circulation. Now, she simply found it amusing in its accuracy.

More amusing was the sheer amount of suggestive commentary that could be made about his competency in pleasing her. Marianne held Bog’s eyes and almost laughed then at how expressive her paramour was; she could actually  _see_  said suggestive comment occur to him, only for him to quickly chastise himself for it and shove it into a darker corner of his mind. She hoped she’d get to hear it soon.

Giving him a wicked smirk she stretched again, twining her hands together and reaching up until her spine gaze a satisfying crack. With that, she slipped arms around Bog’s shoulders and rested against him. Being close to him helped cool her down but not enough to satisfy her. “It’s too hot,” she grumbled again.

She felt him laugh more than she heard it. “Is it?” He settled his arms around her, one clawed hand stoking her back. She could tell that he, for one, was very pleased by their current proximity.

“It’s hotter than should be natural.”

“Mmhm,” Bog said, letting his head fall forward until he could press a kiss to her bare-shoulder.

Marianne hummed a little, finding his lips as pleasantly cool as the rest of him. “Hotter than is healthy. For anyone.”

He made a soft grumbling noise of agreement, too busy paying attention to the curve of her shoulder and the slope of her neck to respond and she almost laughed thinking that he probably had stopped listening to her the moment she’d straddled him. She also found that it was diverting her attention as well, at least for the moment, with his rough cool palm dragging between her wings.

When she made an appreciative sound at his ministrations he murmured against her shoulder “I’ve been meanin to ask ye; what on  _earth_  are ye wearin?”

She blinked. “I’m surprised it took you this long to comment,” she said, more to herself. She had been wearing her summer wardrobe of lighter petals and materials for over a month, but admittedly today’s choice had been more extreme. She couldn’t help it; she was really, really hot.

“ _I’m_  surprised yer father let you out in that - I thought fairies had all sorts of _delicate sensibilities_  when it comes to garments.” 

“It’s  _summer_ ,” Marianne returned. “This is our way of adapting.”

He pulled back in order to look her over, and the gaze was so honestly practical and baffled that she almost didn’t feel embarrassed. “It’s- it’s nothing, though. I can practically see through it. Why bother wearing anythin at all?”

“We still have our _delicate sensibilities_ , thanks.” She shifted a little. “Wait, is it really…  _that_ see-through?”

Bog opened his mouth, then closed it, apparently re-thinking anything he was going to say. “What is it? I didn’t think any of your pretty flowers could do that.”

“They’re called skeleton flowers,” Marianne told him, even as she pouted at his non-answer. “We use them for summer garments because they’re so thin. They only go see-through when they’re wet and… well, I guess I’ve been sweating enough in this damn heat to- um- set it off.”

Another sweep of his eyes and this time, she did blush. Looking down at herself, she silently cursed the poor lighting in his castle and the fact that indeed the short white petal gown was well on it’s way to becoming clear as a fresh spring, with only the veins that ran through each petal as visible proof she actually had anything on. She honestly  _hadn’t_  thought about it. Wearing a veil-thin dress was still wearing a dress where Fairies were concerned, and everyone tended to dress similarly in the summer; self-preservation, after all - she’d probably keel over if she wore her usual outfit in this weather.

She _certainly_  hadn’t thought about the fact that she was wearing such a thing in front of her lover, or how he would respond to it.

“Makes sense,” Bog said, his tone thoughtful as he lifted a hand to lightly drag along the collar. Marianne’s heart did a tell-tale little flip. “Seems a bit… wasteful, though.”

“I- um- o-once it dries it goes back to normal,” she said, stumbling stupidly over her words.

He chuckled. “Well, that’s a shame.” His hand trailed, feather light, over the front of the dress, while the other looped around her to return to caressing her bare back. Despite how over-heated she was, Marianne still managed to shiver, which in turn spurred him to continue.

Marianne would have usually been more than happy to submit to more exploration of her wardrobe. However, she was quickly registering a… different  _heat_  from her lover and his embrace. She wiggled herself out his arms with a breathless laugh.

“And it is  _waaay_ too hot for _that_ ,” she said and laughed harder at the look on his face, looking very flustered under his mulish glare. Still, bless him, Bog did nothing to pull her back to him or keep trying for further intimacy and she patted his cheek affectionately.“Tempted to do something about this heat now, are we?”

His scowl deepened. “ _Tempted_ …” He repeated in a low grumble. Marianne’s face was already flushed with being over-heated but she could still manage to blush further.

“Yeaah, probably not helping that, am I?” She looked down at herself with a wince. Bog simply made some sort of low grumbling noise of agreement that made her want to laugh.

“I don’t suppose there are rooms in this castle that are any cooler - by any chance?” She added. 

“Not enough to please you, no doubt,” Bog said. She was about to make a jibe at his unintended euphemism, was about to complain to him about the heat all over again, when her ever-expressive lover sat up straighter, a sudden epiphany sparkling in his blue eyes.

Marianne gulped. 

* * *

* * *

“Bog, shouldn’t we be going further  _into_  the castle? It’s hotter out here!” 

The Bog King ignored her, having had simply picked Marianne up in favor of carrying her to their intended - hopefully cooler - location. They were walking, actually _walking_  the forest floor. He could have flown with her still over his shoulder, he told her -  _boasted_ , more like - but as they weren’t going far this was apparently easier.

(”And you did say it was too hot to fly”, he had said when she lightly protested this action. She had kicked him, or tried to.)

She tried again. “I’m just saying, it’s hot and stuffy and humid as all get out and I would think getting being away from that might be the logical thing?” That’s certainly how summer’s worked in the Fields anyways.

“Days like today, air in there is still gonna be as heavy as the murkiest swamp in this forest.”

“Thanks a lot for that,  _Bog_.” Marianne swung her legs, until she made enough contact to produce a soft ‘umph’ from him. She was pleased.

Bog adjusted his grip so that she didn’t have as much leverage to whack him. Spoil sport. “Didn’t get to choose the terrain for my domain, Tough Girl,” he sounded incredibly self-satisfied and Marianne eyed his spine, so easily accessed from her current position. Well wouldn’t  _that_ just put him back in his place.

She wouldn’t, though. To use he Spine Thing too often would make it lose it’s particular  _punch_ and Marianne wouldn’t have that.

Oblivious to his lover’s considerings, Bog continued, “However, that bein the case, one does get to learn the few secrets their Kingdom has over the years, which I am in turn sharin with you.”

She clicked her tongue. “And they say romance is dead.” He snorted. “How much further are we going?”

“Not much,” he assured her, adjusting his hold on her again.

“Are you planning to put me down when we get there?” She added.

“Only if ye want me to,” Bog said. 

She smiled. “And you _swear_  it’s going to be cooler? Because you should know that I am dying a slow, hot death right now and am a little skeptical. No offense.”

“I promise.”

Marianne sighed, slumping against him. 

They walked - well  _he_ walked - in companionable silence for a while longer. Marianne decided to graciously stop her barrage of complaints about the weather, at least until they reached their destination, though she it was a struggle; she was still incredibly, _unbearably_  hot.

A shadow seemed to fall over them - though, in the daytime _everything_  in the Dark Forest was in some form of greenish shadow, dark and gloomy - and she looked up, startled. A rock overhang was well over their heads. Craning her neck, Marianne realized that it wasn’t an overhang but an actual  _cave_ , of all things.

Bog stopped walking. He set her down.

“If ye want to fly or walk from here on,” he explained. His hands were clasped before him with the usual nervous energy he got when he didn’t know how she would react to something. “Well?” He added.

“’Well’?” She asked.

Bog was full-on hand-wringing now. “I- how are you feeling?”

“What?” Marianne asked automatically, too distracted by trying to figure out her surroundings to think about much else. “I- oh _. OH.”_  

Now that she was focusing on it, it was downright  _cool_ in there _._  The air still felt hot and damp, wafting in from the entryway, but the temperature had decidedly dropped and she had a feeling it would be even more so if they continued further as he suggested. “It’s  _nice_  in here. Really nice.”

“You like it?”

“Can we move the palace here? At least a summer one?” She said earnestly. “It’s amazing.” 

At that he relaxed, not completely but at least he didn’t look ready to faint due to sheer anxiety - not that he’d ever admit to that, but she knew how he got. After a moment though, he seemed to catch on to her slightly confusion. “You… alright, Tough Girl?”

“Hm? Yeah. Just… never been in one of these before,” she gestured vaguely to the stony walls around them.

“A cave?” Bog asked, somewhere between incredulous and amused. When she nodded he gave a short laugh. “Yes, ye have.”

Marianne raised any eyebrow. “I would think I’d remember something like this, Bog.”

“Yes, I would.” His voice all but dripped sarcasm. “So glad to see our flight together left such an  _impression_  on you.” 

Marianne blinked, surprised - everything about the night to which he referred was forever impressed upon her memory. She would never forget a single moment, a single detail, so what was he talking about? Playing back the entire night only one thing possible stood out. “Wait, with the glow- that was-?”

The sarcasm vanished at her obvious sincerity. “What did you _think_ it was?”

Marianne could feel her face heating up with embarrassment - _it was so obvious_ now - and mumbled to the floor. “A hollowed-out tree. Shut up.”

“Not sayin anythin, love.” But there was laughter in his voice and she punched his arm.  “Come on,” he added, gesturing for her to follow. He rubbed his arm, and chuckled softly and Marianne did her best not to hit him again. “There’s some more light further in.” 

She did follow, looking back over her shoulder at the forest, usually so dim it now seemed over-bright in comparison. “It’s a forest! I figure everything’s a tree. It’s not like I’d ever been in one before then, either. We don’t have these in the fields, you know.”

“None at all?” They’d begun to reach the same strings of luminescence he had shown her some months ago, and Marianne could better see around them. 

The light overhead was reflected in a large pool of water that seemed to run along one stoney wall. “There are streams down here?” Intrigued, Marianne walked to it - hearing Bog follow - and dipped one bare foot into the water before shrieking. “It’s FREEZING!” 

None of the baths in the fairy kingdom were cold anymore, sitting and cooking in the summer sunlight would do that to them. Even the streams and rapids that ran through parts of the kingdom were far warmer than would have offered her any relief. This was as cold as straight melted ice, crisp and smelling a bit of the stone. It was _perfect_.

Bog was about to make a comment - sarcastic no doubt - about her reaction, but cut himself off as Marianne sat and in one smooth motion slipped into the water. “M-Marian- What are you doi-!?  _MaRIANNE!_ ”

It was deeper than expected, but had very little current to it. She was absolutely teeth-chatteringly cold and she couldn’t have been happier. She grinned up at Bog, absently kicking her legs to keep her afloat. “What?”

“You- I thought you couldn’t- your  _wings!_?” He spluttered, still horrified despite her obvious nonchalant attitude and apparent wellbeing.

“No, water is fine,” she said. “Rain is a problem because of the force of it that can rip holes in our wings - if not rip them clean off - but that’s not the water, you know. Just this, this is fine. This is  _moreee_  than fine,” she added, tilting her head back so the tips of her short hair got wet, closing her eyes and sighing with satisfaction. 

“As long as yer okay…”

She grinned, resting her elbows on the stone floor, leveraging herself so she rose up a little out of the water. “And no, to your first question, there are no caves at all. What we do have is usually already housing things that’ll eat little creatures like me. So we see things like this and instinctively stay away from them as much as we stay away f-” She cut herself off.

Too late, Bog was looking at her curiously. “From what?”

“I was going to say the Dark Forest.” She admitted, giving him a lop-sided grin. Some months into their relationship and she still had enough of her fairy culture set into her, even if she hadn’t believed it as much as the rest of them had. The Dark Forest had initially frightened even her in it’s differences, but she - unlike many - had always wanted to overcome that. 

Bog smirked down at her, looking far too pleased with the reminder of his Kingdom’s dark and scary reputation, an extension of his own dark and dangerous image.  _Idiot_ , she thought fondly. “Well, the forest at least won’t eat you,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and said sweetly, “Not unless I want it to,” and then laughed outright at the look on his face. Even in the soft green lighting his flush was incredibly prominent and she was proud to have put it there.

His eyes skimmed over her, the movement looking almost involuntary and Marianne suddenly remembered the dress she sported, now truly see-through now that it was as soaked as she. It was her turn to blush. She kept forgetting about it, and forgetting even more what affect it must be having on Bog. Skies, she admired his self-control. 

That in mind, she crooked a finger at him. “Well?”

“No.”

Marianne pouted. There went her plans for the day. “Why not? Do you mold or something?”

“I don’t- not- exactly. It’s not- pleasant, shall we say,” Bog’s voice had dropped to a very accented mumble, his face still burning red.  _That’s a yes, then_. Though disappointed, Marianne cut him a break, and began to lift herself up. He raised his hands, moving to sit, cross-legged at the edge of the cave spring. “No, no. Enjoy yerself, Tough Girl.”

Raising an eyebrow, Marianne considered how crystal clear the water was, how _visible_ she was. He was likely enjoying himself in his own way. Putting that aside, for the moment at least, she did as she was told and let herself sink further in, letting out another long, content sigh, tilting her eyes up so she could look at the ceiling, the small beads of light glowing like stars.

“Bog?” He made a noise of acknowledgement. and she spoke seriously. “We’re never leaving this cave.” 

He shook his head, looking almost prideful. “You like it that much?”

“It’s fantaaastic,” she purred.

“Do ye want it?”

“That’s what I’m sayi- wait.” She froze. “You’re not serious.”

The Bog King shrugged, looking far too innocent for her liking. “Few of my subjects actually come to things like this, so it wouldn’t be diffic-”

“You can’t just  _give_  me part of your kingdom!”

“It’s  _one_  cave, Mari,” he was laughing in earnest. “There’s hundreds of places like these in the Forest and  _yer_ the one who mentioned summer homes.” His grin having gone from suspiciously innocent to positively wicked.

She shook her head so wildly drops of water went flying from the ends. “I was joking!”

“When is your birthday, Tough Girl?”

“ _NO_.”

He ignored her cheerfully. “I’m sure we could build ye an entrance. Would having ‘ _Queen Marianne_ ’ carved above the mouth be subtle enough?”

Marianne glared at him, hoisting herself out of the water. “You are many things, Bog King. Subtle is not one of- wait, ‘ _Queen_ ’?” The word came out a squeak. 

Bog was staring at her wide-eyed and she could tell he hadn’t meant to say it. “I- did I say  _Que_ \- I meant… that- I mean, someday ye- if y’want- t’- well, you know…”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his frantic backpedaling, even if her face was feeling rather warm too. She nudged him, and smiled until he would stop looking ready to throw up in panic. “You are  _not_  giving me this cave, Bog.”

He gave a slightly bitter smile. “If ye insist,” he said in a tone that meant he was _definitely_  going to give her that cave. 

Rolling her eyes she stood, flicking her wings back in forth to dry them. They were heavy, but give them sometime in the sunlight and they quickly sprang back to normal. “Come on,” She said, gesturing for him to get up.

“I thought you weren’t leaving.”

“I’m  _cold_.”

Bog laughed, and stood with a very exaggerated long-suffering sigh. “ _Hard to please_ , indeed.”

Marianne hummed, taking hold of his shoulders and hoisting herself behind him so her arms looped around his neck. Instinctively, he hooked his large hands under her legs to hold her there. “Well you’ve certainly been doing a good job at it,” she teased in his ear. His silence made it very easy to picture his red face and she leaned to give him a large  _smacking_  kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

As they left, returning to the heat of mid-afternoon, Marianne decided she didn’t mind the thought of, at very least,  _returning_  here every once and a while. And as she eyed the cave mouth over her shoulder, she thought a summer palace for  _Queen Marianne_  wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

But for  _King and Queen of the Dark Forest_.

Marianne decided there were certainly worse ways to spend the heat of summer.


End file.
